


Little Shit

by Python07



Series: Drunk Jean and Kittens [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, jean's drunk, kitten fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 12:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: Young Armand and Jean -- It's late, it's raining, and all Jean wants is to get laid.





	Little Shit

Jean took one last look at the eight men sprawled on the floor, over tables, and over the bar. He offered the outraged barkeep a bag of coins, a cocky smile, and a wink before he stumbled out of the tavern. He almost slipped on the wet stones. It was dark and the rain was cold but he didn’t notice. He crashed into Belgard’s side.

Belgard laughed and grabbed Jean. They swayed and almost fell over. De Foix just pointed and laughed at them.

Belgard kept his arm around Jean in a playful headlock. “Let’s go to Madame’s,” he shouted drunkenly. He leered at De Foix and started pulling Jean along. “You can see your sweet Jeanette.”

De Foix trailed along, jumping in every puddle. “As if you’re not going just for Marie-Cessette.”

Jean didn’t have the coordination to slip out of Belgard’s grasp but that didn’t stop his squirming. They almost fell again. “Don’t want to,” he slurred.

De Foix thumped Belgard’s shoulder. “You know Jean has no use for whores.” 

Belgard let out a bark of laughter. He groped Jean’s groin to discover that Jean was half hard. “I knew your blood is up from the fight.” He squeezed. He grinned. It was hard, all teeth. “I can think of several talented ladies that can help you with this.”

Jean scowled and slapped Belgard’s hand. He shoved Belgard away. He took a couple stumbling steps away to lean against a nearby wall. He pressed his hands flat against the wall so as not to give in and adjust himself. He put his head back and shut his eyes. He turned his face up to the rain.

De Foix jumped in another large puddle, spraying all three of them, but it didn’t matter as they were all soaked. He rolled his eyes. “I think our Jean has a secret lover.”

Belgard snorted in disbelief. “Jean,” he drawled. “Please. He can’t keep a secret.”

Jean ran a wet hand down his wet face. He blinked the water out of his eyes and glared. “Piss off,” he snapped. He pushed away from the wall and started in the opposite direction.

“It’s your loss,” Belgard shouted after him.

Jean made a rude gesture over his shoulder but kept going. The rain started coming down harder and he lost his bearings. He stopped to look around.

He heard whimpering coming from a nearby alley. He shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the rain pattering down, but it was high pitched and almost jarring. He wanted to keep walking but he just couldn’t. He growled under his breath.

He was too drunk and frustrated for any type of stealth. He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword as he tromped into the alley. He followed the noise to find a small bundle of wet fur cowering in a corner.

He knelt down to get a closer look at it. It whimpered helplessly. “You better not be a rat,” he muttered and picked it up.

The kitten was barely the size of the palm of his hand. It meowed mournfully and tried to curl in on itself. He grumbled some more and peeled his wet shirt from his skin. He slipped the kitten inside of his shirt and let it rest against his skin. It shivered but didn’t try to get away.

He went back out to the street. He spoke down into his shirt. “Now, I just have to figure out where we are.”

He wandered until he found a street he recognized. He didn’t know how long it took before he finally arrived at the small building. He slipped inside, trailing a stream of water behind him. He had to grab the railing of the stairs with both hands and pull himself up.

He trudged to the familiar door and pounded on it. He rested his forehead against it. “Armand,” he whined.

He stomped his foot. “Come on.”

A bleary eyed Armand peeked out at him. “Jean?”

Jean grunted. “Who else?”

Armand opened the door. He wore his nightshirt and the apartment was dark except for the fire in the fireplace. He stepped to the side. “Only you would be out in this weather.”

Jean laughed. “It’s not so bad.”

Armand shut the door and locked it. “What are you doing here?”

Jean looked Armand up and down. Armand’s hair was mussed, his eyes were soft and sleepy, the nightshirt was open at the neck, and he was barefoot. He pushed Armand against the door and kissed him.

Armand let out a small, surprised noise, but opened up to the kiss. His fingers were warm, cupping Jean’s chilled face. “Jean,” he whispered against Jean’s lips. “You’re soaked to the bone and your breath reeks of wine.”

Jean’s earlier arousal was back full force. He pressed closer and Armand shivered. The kitten squirmed between them and his chest stung. He hissed, more in annoyance than in pain.

Armand pushed Jean away. “What’s that?”

Jean grinned sheepishly. “I forgot it was there.”

“What?”

“The little shit scratched me.” Jean brought the kitten out from under his shirt. “I found it.” He pushed it at Armand. “It’s a kitten, right, not a drowned rat?”

“Right.” Armand cradled the kitten against his chest. “Hello, little one,” he said softly.

Jean watched Armand wrap it in a small towel. He watched Armand gently dry it and the thing began to purr while he just stood there, dripping water on the floor. He shifted uncomfortably and gave in and adjusted himself. He frowned. “What about me?”

Armand tossed him a towel. “Get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death, idiot.” He sat on the edge of the bed. He was still cradling the kitten. He stroked its nose and behind the ears. “You’re a bit warmer now, aren’t you?”

Jean stood in front of the fire and started stripping. He wanted to put on a bit of a show but Armand wasn’t looking at him. He let his jacket and weapons hit the floor with a loud clang. He dropped his boots but Armand still didn’t pay him any attention. He quickly finished stripping and briskly dried himself off, muttering curses under his breath the whole time.

Armand still didn’t look at him. “Language, Jean.”

Jean growled and crawled on the bed behind Armand. He started kissing the side of Armand’s neck. His hands itched to touch Armand’s skin.

“Jean,” Armand tried to protest even as he tilted his head to the side.

Jean wanted to drag Armand back down onto the bed. He wanted to strip him so he could touch and taste him. Everywhere. But Armand was still holding that little shit. “Don’t make me throw that thing back outside, Armand,” he growled in between kisses to Armand’s neck.

Armand reached back to run a hand through Jean’s wet hair. Then he pinched the back of Jean’s neck. “You certainly will not.”

Jean’s breath hitched. “Please, Armand. I…” his voice trailed off into a needy groan.

Armand pulled away only to wrap the kitten in a blanket. He left it to sleep on a cushion on the floor. Then he turned to face Jean. He pulled his nightshirt off. “There’s no need to be jealous, Jean.”

Jean took a moment to just admire Armand’s body in the firelight. Armand was slender and firm, but not overly muscled, and his skin was perfect. Armand was everything he wanted and his mouth went dry. He suddenly pulled Armand down on the bed with him. He rolled Armand beneath him and kissed him until they had to break for air. “I’m not jealous of a cat.”

Armand wrapped his arms around Jean. His eyes sparked in amusement. “That’s good because little shit is staying.”


End file.
